Poem -
the thing chosen
Sitting   On an old tree
it takes all my weight
groans just to be
the thing chosen
My hand on its bark
no need of words
We are silence and dark
Down in the valleys
the old year dies loud
Some bells find us high above
jovial crowds
a new year flies in
The old year flies out
we are silence and dark
my hand on its bark
It bears up my weight
We groan just to beÂ
my hand finds rough bark
as the fireworks see
In New Year.
M
Â
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Comments
Hello M...
​​​​​​May this year Save more lives...
Save the Children?
Hostages and all the Victims RIP who died under their promoted hands...
No more part of their Killing Fields?
Breathe until they come back around?
Great write!
Thank you for sharing...
​​​​​​Some aren't going to be here at the end of the next 365 Days...
Hope there's more Days than Body Counts?
HAPPY NEW YEAR my friend!
🙋🎉
S x
Â
Hi love.. thankyou. I hope you have a wonderful new year also my friend x
My health isn't what it used to be. I have to start all over this year. I hope you have a good 2025. đź’•
Thankyou. I wish you good health in the new year... hugs x
Compelling brilliantÂ
Hey Rory... yea lol... me and the tree were compelled to have a brilliant new year... alone lol. Thanks so much, and happy etc etc to you my very valued friend ... hugs x
Dear Marion, you and the tree. I can only imagine the conversationÂ
going on. Nature is, indeed, a great consolation. When people’s words (like mine now) are useless, nature is the place to be.Â
“”A new year flies in
the old year flies out
we are silence and dark
my hands on its bark.”’Oh, this is a beautiful piece of poetry. Only youÂ
my friend. A huge hug, Â BÂ